


Roadside Assist

by Make_It_Worse



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Exhibitionism, Handcuffs, I promise, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Police Baton, Police Uniforms, Power Dynamics, Public Sex, Teasing, Uniform Kink, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 14:34:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21303680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Make_It_Worse/pseuds/Make_It_Worse
Summary: “Good evening, Officer. What seems to be—” a rich chuckle interrupts his trite greeting and his words disappear in a swallow. Of all the luck. Of course, he would get pulled over by—“Never thought I’d see the day.” The officer clicks off the flashlight and leans down. His beard crests into an amused smirk, “Connor, breaking a law.”Connor’s jaw remains locked tight, unable to speak. He’s not about to incriminate himself, but he doesn’t trust himself around this man either. There’s too much history there. His fingers flex around the wheel and the officer’s nostrils flair as if scenting Connor’s trepidation tinged with a hint of arousal.Connor exhales through his nose, wrenching his jaw open against his better judgment, “Hey, Hank.”
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 38
Kudos: 426





	Roadside Assist

The red and blue lights shine through Connor’s closed eyes as he lets his head collapse back against the seat with a _thunk_. It would figure, of course it would, that he’d get pulled over the one time in his life he decided to break the speed limit.

Still, five miles per hour seemed a bit ridiculous of an infraction to bother pulling him over for. Glancing at the dash, 7:17 shines back at him. He’s going to be late now; he just knows it.

He startles at a baton rapping against the window glass. A flashlight shines in his face, blocking out the officer from view. With fall in full effect, darkness has already blanketed the streets. Pushing at a button on his door, he squints against the beam in his face and attempts to smile as the window lowers.

“Good evening, Officer. What seems to be—” a rich chuckle interrupts his trite greeting and his words disappear in a swallow. Of all the luck. Of course, he would get pulled over by—

“Never thought I’d see the day.” The officer clicks off the flashlight and leans down. His beard crests into an amused smirk, “Connor, breaking a law.”

Connor’s jaw remains locked tight, unable to speak. He’s not about to incriminate himself, but he doesn’t trust himself around this man either. There’s too much history there. His fingers flex around the wheel and the officer’s nostrils flair as if scenting Connor’s trepidation tinged with a hint of arousal.

Connor exhales through his nose, wrenching his jaw open against his better judgment, “Hey, Hank.”

Hank nods back in greeting, “Been a while since I’ve seen you down these roads. Where ya headed?”

Connor’s head jerks in irritation. Hank knows about Connor’s movie nights. He’s dragging this out on purpose, “Can we move this along?”

All good humor falls from Hank’s face at Connor’s bratty tone, “If you’re going to act like a shit, we can do this the hard way.” Connor sees the way Hank taps the baton against his thick thigh and vivid memories of what Hank can do with it colors him hot and scarlet. Panic follows fast on its heels as his dick surges to life, lengthening along his thigh.

He mentally curses at himself. It had really been too long since he last got laid if a few rough words from Hank were enough to get him going like this. Hank doesn’t miss Connor’s fidgeting or how he rearranges his jeans.

A knowing grin settles on Hank’s features and goosebumps erupt up Connor’s arms as he growls, “Maybe that’s what you want.”

Reaching for the last shreds of self-control, Connor mutters, “Oh, _fuck _you.”

Hank sighs and slaps a hand on the hood of Connor’s car, “Out of the vehicle, Stern.”

Connor turns to gape at him. After several silent seconds pass, Hank’s voice comes out low and dangerous, “You heard me. Don’t make me drag you out myself.”

His hands compress the seat belt and he’s half out of the car even as he protests, “Hank, come on. This is excessive even for y—” Hank spins him to face the car and it shocks him into momentary silence.

“Assaulting an officer is a pretty big offense,” his breath comes out hot against Connor’s neck in the cool night air. If he was any closer, Connor swears Hank’s lips would brush against his skin.

“I-I didn’t. Hank, you know—I just _swore_ at you. For fuck’s sak—” He cuts off when Hank’s fingers circle around his forearms, yanking them together behind his back.

“What can I say, kid? I’m a sensitive guy. Hurt my feelings and all that.” Connor would laugh if it wasn’t for the clatter of handcuffs behind him. This is _happening_.

“Hank, come on. Be reasonable.” He tries to pivot and pull free, but Hank’s grip is like iron. Still, he makes a humming sound as if considering Connor’s plight like a rational adult.

“I suppose you could make it up to me.” His thumb brushes the soft skin of Connor’s inner wrist and he trembles. For such a large man, Hank’s touch could be surprisingly gentle. Connor groans, realizing this was what Hank had been after all along and he waltzed straight into his well-laid ruse.

Connor’s skin cringes at how needy he sounds when he speaks, “What do you want?”

Hank’s body finally makes contact and Connor tries his best not to melt into the familiar planes of his body. Hank’s answer caresses his jaw in promise, “You. Just you.”

And, god, if that doesn’t send him. Connor struggles against wave after unrelenting wave of longing. It’s been a long time, and he knows Hank will fuck him within a hair’s breadth of heaven’s door, but still, “And if I say no?”

Hank’s grip slackens slightly, “I’m not a monster, Con.” Connor rests his head against the hood of the car, hating how easily he falls for this man every single time. He knows Hank is watching him intently. He nods in an effort to save what remains of his dignity. He doesn’t want Hank to hear his voice shake with need.

“Good boy,” Hank purrs, voice heavy with irony as the cool metal slides closed around Connor’s wrists. The air rushes from his lungs when Hank hauls him up only to roughly bend him over the boot of the car. He jerks badly at the slide of Hank’s baton up his inner thigh. He taps Connor’s leg, his voice hard and commanding, “Spread ‘em, Stern. Don’t make me ask twice.”

If Connor wasn’t already painfully hard, the slide of the baton between his clothed cheeks would’ve gotten him to full mast. Hank makes a show of patting his legs, making his way torturously slow to between Connor’s thighs. His hand brushes Connor’s balls, pulling a sigh from his chest.

“Jesus, kid. How long’s it been since someone’s touched you?” Connor flushes hotly at the question and turns his face away. Hank fondles him abruptly in retaliation and Connor’s knees nearly buckle at the sudden contact.

“Asked you a question,” Connor can hear the grin in his words.

Accepting defeat, Connor unhunches his shoulders, “No one since you.”

If Hank finds the information surprising, he doesn’t show it, “You still keep your car stocked?” Painfully arousing shame prickles down his spine. There had been a time when they couldn’t keep their hands off each other and kept lube stashed in unlikely places.

“Center console,” he mutters into the metal of the car and Hank pats his ass before stepping away to rummage in Connor’s car.

He tries to rise to see what’s keeping Hank when a heavy palm pushes his head back down. Connor’s heart hammers in his chest at the sound of a zipper sliding. Cold air hits his bare skin as Hank yanks his briefs and pants down to just above his knees.

He shivers at the slick slide of a thick finger and it has nothing to do with the chilly evening air. One finger swiftly becomes two and Connor’s dick leaks wetly at the tip. A viscous glob drips to the fender and Hank looms closer. His uniform presses against Connor’s exposed skin. The metal from his belt leeches heat from his bared ass as his holster brushes against Connor’s hip.

“Look at you,” Hank purrs against his ear. “About to come all over my bumper from just my fingers.” Connor’s embarrassed whimper disappears into Hank’s meaty palm as it clamps over his mouth. It dissolves into a low moan when Hank finds what he’s searching for.

He prods and strokes at that tight bundle mercilessly until Connor whines in warning. When Hank shifts his hand to caress the column of Connor’s throat, he stumbles over his speech, “I won’t…last like this.”

Hank’s hand goes still even as his mouth keeps up a steady current of filth, “I’m gonna fuck you whether you’ve come already or not.” A strangled gurgling sound works up Connor’s esophagus and he can feel Hank smile against his ear, “I haven’t forgotten how sensitive you get after coming. How you mewl and wail for more of my cock. How about it, kitten? Want me to fuck you right here?” His hand drops to pat the trunk.

A sane portion of Connor’s brain chastises him for letting things get so out of hand. He’d been looking forward to his first free weekend in over a month. He was going to catch up with friends, eat junk food, and watch cheesy movies. Bent over Hank’s police car had not been on the agenda at all and yet—

“Yes, god. Hank, please.” He’s beyond caring. Markus and Simon could wait or start the movie without him. At present, his brain is focused entirely on getting Hank’s fat cock inside him.

Hank’s baton taps him under the chin, and lust-blown eyes meet a tempting azure gaze, “You can beg better than that, baby doll.”

Connor’s objection drowns in a moan as Hank resumes working him over, inside and out. His grip pumps Connor’s shaft slowly as his fingers stroke a fire inside Connor that threatens to consume him.

“Hank, _please_,” he pants the words as overwhelming pleasure threatens to peak, “I need you _now_. Please, fuck me.”

He sags in relief when he hears the tear of a condom wrapper. Hank runs a heavy hand down Connor’s spine as he lines up for the initial thrust. Connor’s mouth droops low, feeling unbelievably full as Hank sinks thick inch after thick inch inside him. After prolonged emptiness, he’s nearly forgotten how it felt. Drool slides down his chin and his eyes roll when Hank’s cockhead drags heavily over his prostate.

He doesn’t see Hank’s sinister smile, but he howls when Hank sets a punishing pace. His cock hammers at the tightly wound bundle of pleasure inside him, not slowing or giving him time to adjust. It’s too much. It’s exactly what he’s been aching for since he and Hank last parted. His fingers flex around the cuffs and Hank yanks them like reins as he tries to fuck a Connor-shaped imprint into his trunk.

“_Oh_,” it comes out softly, but Hank hears it all the same and buries himself to the hilt. He knows Connor’s tells; he’s getting close. 

The swell of his stomach sinks into the dip of Connor’s spine like a puzzle piece as he growls, “There it is. Sing for me, baby.” White-hot desire spirals up Connor’s shaft at the words and Hank reaches around to stroke Connor in time with his thrusts. Hank’s teeth graze his neck before his lips lock around his pulse. Connor keens, his cock dribbling in presage of release.

“_HANK_!” It comes out as a shriek and his hips buck wildly as he chases his orgasm.

“Come on, doll. You’re right there. Be a good boy and come for me.” Hank rails him for all he’s worth and the car shakes with each thrust. Connor’s shoulders ache from the restraints and the toes of his shoes dig into the gravel. Hank’s zipper chafes against the soft swell of his ass, but he’s beyond caring. Unrelenting pleasure circles in his gut before surging through his veins.

He’s vaguely aware that he’s shouting and Hank fucks him through the first wave of his release. His hips don’t stop when Connor sags boneless against the trunk of the car and they pound him through his weak, overstimulated sobbing.

He whimpers Hank’s name and it’s enough to tip him over the edge. He thrusts once, twice, and then he’s crushing Connor beneath his considerable bulk, breathing hard in his ear.

“You,” he pants heavily, fumbling for keys to release Connor’s wrists, “are fucking amazing.”

Connor smiles, tired but content after weeks of pent up longing, “I missed you. I wanted it to be memorable.”

Hank shakes his head, helping Connor back into his clothes, “It wasn’t even a whole month, Con.”

Hank pulls him close, pressing his lips to Connor’s with a gentleness approaching reverence. Connor had been clear in his instructions. He wanted Hank, badly, and he wanted Hank to make him earn it. _In uniform_, he remembered that comment going straight to his dick. Connor had wanted it rough, but Hank can’t help feeling soft for him in the aftermath. He’d held up his end of the deal; he’s going to kiss the freckles off Connor’s face to his heart’s content.

“The condom was unnecessary,” Connor murmurs later against his neck and Hank shrugs. They curl up as best they can in the backseat of the cruiser, waiting for their heart rates to return to normal.

“Didn’t want you leaking jizz all over Manfred’s couch. You know he’s a priss about his furniture.” Connor arches an eyebrow at Hank, privately thinking every sane person in the universe would rather not have come on their couch, but he can see the point.

“I missed you,” he murmurs instead. “Four weeks is too long.” Hank gives him a small hug in answer before making a show of trying to straighten up his hair and clothes.

“They’re going to know,” Connor sighs, resigned to the teasing that is sure to come. Hank’s eyes linger on a bruise blossoming just above Connor’s collar. He hadn’t meant for it to be so visible but aiming hickies when lust-addled wasn’t on his resume.

“Blame it on my flight. It _was_ late after all.” Connor makes a noncommittal sound and Hank blows a raspberry in the crook of his neck. Connor scowls at him and Hank rubs his beard against his cheek, “I hate to break it to ya, but I think your friends already know we fuck.” Connor scowls harder, trying to conceal a smile. He fails spectacularly and Hank kisses him again.

When Connor turns over the engine of his car, Hank leans down to rap the hood with his knuckles, “You _were_ speeding you know.”

Connor scoffs and yanks him down for a quick kiss, “Ticket me, then.”

“I just might,” Hank winks and takes a few backward steps toward his car, “Meet you there in five.” Connor nods and rolls up his window, waiting for the heat to warm his cold fingers. Hank does the same while eyeing a box sitting in the cupholder.

He hadn’t lied to Connor about the work trip so much as he fudged the details a little. He’d extended it a few extra days to find the right ring. Navigating out of the dead-end drive near Markus’ wooded cabin, Hank smiles as they approach the brightly lit house. Markus was as close to family as Connor had. He’d helped Hank plan the surprise.

He pockets the box and crosses the lawn to thread his fingers with Connor’s. He gives them a squeeze, wondering if it will feel any different once Connor is wearing his ring.

“Only fifteen minutes late,” Connor beams at him, bliss still clearly written in his features.

Hank grins with private knowledge, “I think they’ll forgive us.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/WorseMake).


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